A year passed, and Timothy had gone out to look at his rabbit-trap without particularly thinking of what it might contain, when a tremendous bustle inside attracted his attention. Cautiously he lifted the door, and up sprang an angry little man in green, having a long white beard, and a hump upon his back, who vanished from sight as quickly as he had appeared. Timothy lamented the loss of such unusual game, and then espied at the bottom of the trap nothing less than a tiny cloak of red, embroidered with six golden birds flying into a serpent's open jaws!
He made a joyful dive after the little garment, but, strange to say, it stuck tight to the fingers of his right hand, dragging after it the trap. Timothy shook it and pulled at it in vain; there it was, and not to be dislodged.
He ran home and called Bess to his assistance. The little girl came out, and no sooner had she touched her brother than she stuck fast to him. The mother flew to the rescue, and became fastened to her daughter; and there they all were, in a long string, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at their strange predicament. The only thing was to make a pilgrimage to the oak-tree in the forest. Timothy's dog followed them, and rubbed against his master's coat. He, too, stuck fast, and so did Bessy's cat. Everybody they passed upon the way was attracted to the queer family party, and before long a little army of curious people were compelled to walk along in the direction of the forest.
Timothy did not know the secret of the little cloak, which had power to attract everything to it, drawing even people's thoughts out of their hearts, as a magnet draws the needle. Only in fairy-land could the objects so attracted be set free.
When they reached the oak-tree in the forest, Timothy struck upon it three times and called with a bold voice, though not without a trembling of the legs, for the king's chief counsellor. The bark of the great tree cleft slowly open, and out came the same old white-bearded fairy he had captured in the rabbit-trap. Bowing with mock humility, the old fellow asked what his visitors would be pleased to have.
"I demand my father, and also to be rid of this wretched little rag," said Timothy hotly.
"Step inside, step inside," said the elf with a malicious smile, for he knew that, once within, he might get the audacious mortals in his power, and force them to work his gold mines.
"Not a step will I go inside until I see my father," said Timothy firmly.
"Then here may you abide!" cried the old man, turning white with rage.
Timothy put one hand within the tree, holding the magic mantle at arm's-length.